


It's a Marshmallow World

by ChancellorGriffin



Series: Five Red Dresses: A Collection of Kabby Christmas Eve AU's [5]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blakes as Children, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Clarke as Child, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Fluff and Smut, Honestly This May Be the Smuttiest Smut I've Ever Written So Like Just Be Aware, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 11:51:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5455529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChancellorGriffin/pseuds/ChancellorGriffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abby's Christmas present for Marcus is the kind of gift that can only be given in private.  But with nosy Aunt Raven upstairs - not to mention three tiny children keeping their ears sharp for the sound of reindeer hooves and sleigh bells - they're having a hard time finding any privacy on Christmas Eve.  Sequel to the Kabby AU "The Life You Make In the Ruins," set in present day Portland, Oregon. Takes place eight months later.</p><p>WARNING: EXTREMELY SMUTTY</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Marshmallow World

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Life You Make In the Ruins](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5088329) by [ChancellorGriffin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChancellorGriffin/pseuds/ChancellorGriffin). 



 

"Three presents," pleaded Bellamy.

"No."

"Two presents."

"Bellamy, this is not a negotiation," said Marcus firmly, handing the eight-year-old boy a package wrapped in _Muppet Christmas Carol_ wrapping paper as Abby handed a matching one to both his sisters.  "One present on Christmas Eve, the rest tomorrow.  That was our deal."

"One and a half presents."

"Sure," said Marcus.  "You can open half a present.  You can open half of Octavia's."

"No way!" said Octavia, "I'm opening mine!  Bellamy can't have it."

"Then it sounds like it's one present for everybody," said Abby, handing out the grownups' presents from the pile beneath the tree.  Marcus had given her a beautiful Irish wool sweater.  There was a bottle of excellent Oregon pinot noir with a silver bow from Marcus and Abby for Aunt Vera, bourbon for Jackson, and for Auntie Raven - because her fiance's twenty-six-year-old ex-girlfriend had somehow inexplicably wormed her way into the family and could now no more be gotten rid of than the air they were breathing - there was an enormous stuffed duck which the children had picked out themselves and named Quackers, and which Raven loved so much she did not let it out of her arms the rest of the night.

"Did Dolphin pick this out?" she asked Octavia, who nodded, pleased that Auntie Raven got it. 

"Dolphin wants you to have a buddy for when you come stay over here with us," she said, and Marcus looked away like he was trying to hide the emotion on his face but reached out and squeezed Abby's hand.  Even Raven looked moved.  She held out her arms, and the kids leaped into them, tackling her and Quackers with a three-way hug.

"I love you little weirdos," she said.  "Now open yours."

The children began immediately ripping into their presents, but Marcus stopped them.  "Hey now," he said. "We don't tear open our presents like crazy animals. We open them politely and then we say thank you.  These are all from Auntie Raven."

"Thank you, Auntie Raven," they chorused in unison, attempting valiantly to open their gifts slowly and politely.  Clarke got there first - she'd ripped the fastest, to begin with, so there was less to do.  Raven had gotten all the kids new Christmas pajamas.  Clarke's were festooned with tiny pink candy canes, Octavia's with big blue snowflakes, and Bellamy's - where on earth Raven had found them, Abby could not possibly guess - were printed all over with Tyrannosauruses in Santa hats.

" _These are the best pajamas ever_!" shouted Bellamy.  "Thank you Auntie Raven!"

"Okay, everyone, pajamas and clean teeth," said Marcus, "then come back downstairs and we'll hang up your stockings."

"And put out cookies," reminded Clarke absently, half-distracted by watching Bug bat his paws at a crumpled-up ball of wrapping paper. 

"Yes," Abby agreed.  "And put out the cookies."

"How come Uncle Marcus didn't get to open a present?" asked Octavia suddenly.

"His is for later," said Abby, and there was something just a little evasive in her tone that only Marcus and Raven picked up on.  "Now go on up and get ready for bed."

"Well, I think that's our cue," said Aunt Vera, rising from the couch to embrace and kiss Marcus and Abby, and then wrap the children up in a tight hug.  "Jackson, love, I'll drive you home."  Abby kissed her brother's cheek and watched with a warm glow of happiness as the children flung their arms around him.  He even hugged Marcus.  They were getting along much better now; it had been tense at the very beginning, since Jackson was overprotective of his older sister in the wake of Jake and Callie's deaths.  He held on a little too tightly, maybe, and Marcus had already left Abby once.  But once Marcus was back - for good this time - and they began spending time together, Jackson began to soften.  Now, they were very nearly friends.

Jackson was a bit more flustered and uncertain around Raven, which amused Abby.  He went to shake her hand, then pulled back at the last minute and leaned in to hug her, then changed his mind.  Raven sighed, flung her arms around him and planted a big smacking kiss on his cheek, which made him blush.  Then she smacked his ass as he followed his aunt out the door.

"Breakfast at ten," called Abby as they trudged carefully down the snow-covered porch steps.

"We'll be there," said Vera.  "Raven, honey, are you sure I can't offer you my guest room?"

"Girl, I would be all over it," said Raven, "but the kids want to have a Christmas Eve sleepover in their room.  But I'm here until the 29th, can I come crash on Thursday?"

"I'll have the wine ready," grinned Vera.  "See you in the morning."

"Merry Christmas!" the children called after their uncle and great-aunt as they made their way to Vera's car, and then Marcus ushered them all upstairs to change into their new pajamas.  Raven took Quackers into the kitchen to plate the cookies and pour a glass of milk to leave out for Santa.  "Save me one," she murmured under her breath to Abby.

"Nope," said Abby.  "If you're up at 7 a.m. to fill the stockings, you get a cookie.  That's the deal."

"Why don't you just do them tonight?"

"Because I spent all day cleaning the house and roasting a turkey and putting up with you, and I want to go to bed," said Abby.  "We'll do stockings in the morning.  We told the kids they can't come downstairs before eight.  If you're awake, you get a cookie."

"That's a mean rule."

"I'm a mean woman."

"It's true," agreed Marcus, entering from the other room with a huge pile of crumpled wrapping paper for the recycling bin.  "Don't cross her."

"So you guys are headed straight to bed, then?" asked Raven, in an entirely innocent-sounding tone that Abby did not trust a bit.

"Yes," she said.  "We're tired."

"So you don't wanna like stay up all night and watch movies?"

"No."

"Big plans for the rest of the night?"

"Sleeping," said Abby firmly.

Raven shook her head.  "You're up to something," she said.  "You've got that look."

"I don't have a look."

"Marcus, doesn't she have a look?"

"I am not involved."

"You have a look."

"Somebody's talking herself into spending the night on the porch," said Abby, and Raven laughed.

"All right," she said, throwing up her hands in surrender.  "It's none of my business."

"You say that, but I doubt you mean it."

Raven was prevented from retorting by the clatter of three pairs of feet thundering down the stairs.  "Hey, look at those sweet new PJ's!" she exclaimed.  "I bet somebody _super rad_ got them for you."  This made the children collapse onto each other in giggles.

Marcus handed everyone their stockings and one by one lifted the kids up so they could reach the row of little brass hooks on the underside of the mantel.  Then he and Abby hugged and kissed them all and sent them upstairs to bed.

"I was thinking I might stay up for a few hours and watch a really really long movie here in the living room right outside your bedroom door," said Raven.  "That won't be a problem, will it?"

"Only if you want to live until Christmas morning," said Marcus.  "Besides, the kids are the ones who invited you to sleep over.  Left to our own devices we'd have sent you to Hillsboro with Aunt Vera."

"But that's so far away!"

"Yes," agreed Abby.  "Isn't it."

Raven gave an exaggerated sigh, kissed them both loudly and smackingly on the cheek, and trotted upstairs to bed.  "All right, kiddos, it's party time!" she yelled up the stairs.  "Me and Quackers are on our way!"  And as they closed their bedroom door behind them, they could hear the kids excitedly cheering.

"Jesus," said Abby.  "She really likes that duck."

Marcus shook his head in bewilderment, leaning back against the door with a sigh of relief.

“Tell me again why we thought it was a good idea to host Christmas dinner?”

“Because it’s Christmas,” Abby pointed out reasonably.  "And we're the only ones with a dining room table that seats eight."   He sighed.

“God, I’m exhausted,” he said as he sat down on the side of the bed and kicked off his shoes while he began untying his tie. “You wouldn’t think a 5-to-3 ratio of children to adults would leave you drained of the will to live, but sweet God in heaven, I’m so glad they’re upstairs and we’re down here. Aren’t you exhausted?”

She didn’t answer. She just watched him undress, feeling an avalanche of conflicting sensations. She loved how easy and domestic it was between them already, just two people getting ready for bed and talking over their day. She loved how comfortable and safe it was, how _married_ she already felt, watching him unbutton his shirt and toss it into the laundry basket on the closet floor. How was it possible to feel such a soothing, comforting intimacy with someone while also wanting to rip his clothes off of him and throw him up against the wall?

“Are you not getting ready for bed?” he said as he shed his pants and socks, tossing them into the laundry basket as well, and climbing under the covers in nothing but the midnight blue silk boxers she’d given him for his birthday. He looked at her curiously, where she stood near the doorway, still fully dressed.

“It's time for you to open your present,” she said. “It's a surprise. Something for you to unwrap in private.”

“Oh really,” he said, raising an eyebrow curiously. 

“But you have to stay right where you are while I go get it,” she said. “Don’t move from that bed. And close your eyes.”

“It’s not going to be a clown, is it?” he asked as she clicked on the bedside lamp, turned off the overhead light, and disappeared into the closet. “I hate clowns.”

“Why would I get you a clown?”

“I’m starting with the worst-case scenario,” he said reasonably, eyes still closed. “I’m just going to start listing surprises I don’t like, and if yours is on the list then you have to throw it out. Clowns. Sudden loud noises. Raisins masquerading as chocolate chips.  Unnecessary key changes in power ballads.  Any horror movie where something reaches out a hand from under somebody’s bed.”

“Marcus.”

“Jelly beans. Oh man. The ones that you think are watermelon and they’re really jalapeno. Or the ones that you think are strawberry but they’re bubble gum.”

“Marcus, you can open your eyes now,” she said, and he did.

And swallowed. Hard.

Her green knit dress and boots were piled on the closet floor. In their place was the faintest, silkiest whisper of a red negligee.

“Merry Christmas,” she said in a low, throaty murmur, but he couldn’t speak. He could only stare – at her full, soft breasts spilling out of the red lace cups, at the sheer fabric that fluttered away from her body, barely covering the tops of her thighs, so transparent that he could see underneath it the line of the world’s tiniest red lace panties.

“Like I told you,” she said. “Something for you to unwrap in private.”

“You’re going to kill me,” he whispered hoarsely. “Come here.” She sauntered over to him infuriatingly, tantalizingly slowly. He could not take his eyes off the curve of her hips, the way the feather-light silk shimmered back and forth like liquid with every movement. “I want to rip that right off you.”

She shook her head chidingly. “Now, what did you _just_ tell the children?” she said, standing over his side of the bed and leaning down to run her hands through his hair (and expose a tantalizing expanse of breasts so close to his face he could very nearly kiss them). “We do not tear open our presents like greedy little animals. We unwrap them slowly and politely, and then we say thank you.”

“Goddamn you,” he growled, and seized her in his arms, pulling her down onto the bed where he could climb on top of her and devour her mouth with a ravenous kiss.

The silk felt as good against his skin as it looked on Abby's, sending little whispers of sensation all over him. He lowered his whole body onto hers, bracing his arms on either side of her head to support his weight, letting his now-excruciatingly hard cock sink down against her, separated by two layers of silk. She smiled as she felt it settle against her, and rocked her hips towards him to capture more.

“Abby,” he groaned as he felt just how hot it was behind that tiny triangle of red silk tied with the thinnest of threads over her thighs. “Oh, God.”

“Unwrap me,” she whispered, sinking back into the pillows. In response, he slipped his hand inside the tiny red panties and buried his mouth between her breasts. Abby moaned, and arched her whole body up to capture more of him with such force that the mahogany headboard thumped against the wall, and Marcus froze – his mouth still buried in Abby’s breasts, his fingers just about to dart inside her – at the sound of six tiny feet pounding down the stairs.

“It’s Santa, it’s Santa, I heard a noise, it’s Santa!” they heard Bellamy exclaim.

“Oh _no_ ,” whispered Abby in a tone somewhere between horror and amusement. “This is going to be harder than I thought.”

“Where’s Santa?” they heard Clarke ask loudly on the other side of the door, and braced themselves for the inevitable. Sure enough, there came a knock.

“Aunt Abby, we heard Santa, but he’s not here,” called Clarke.

“No Santa here!” Abby called back desperately. “It must have been . . . a noise in the street.”

“Nuh-uh, it sounded like clomping.”

“Oh, sure,” muttered Marcus. “They’re dead to the world when I ask them to fill up the bowl of cat food, but _this_ they hear.”

Abby stifled a giggle.

“What are you guys doing in there?” asked Clarke curiously, but were mercifully spared the awkwardness of a response by the never-more-welcome sound of Raven’s voice.

“Whoa there, chipmunks,” she said, “what’s the haps? Why’s everyone out of bed?”

“We heard a thumping noise,” said Octavia, “and we came down to look for Santa but we don’t see him.”

“A thumping noise, huh?” said Raven, just a little too loudly. “Like a sort of headboard-hitting-the-wall kind of sound?”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. Look, this is an old house, and sometimes old houses make weird noises. Bumps and creaks and, you know, heavy breathing, things like that.”

“I hate how much she’s enjoying this,” whispered Marcus as Abby buried her face in her pillow, shoulders shaking with laughter. “I mean it. I’m just going to kill her.”

“Anyway,” Raven went on pointedly, and they could hear her ushering the children back up the steps, “a good rule of thumb is, if you don’t hear sleigh bells, it’s not Santa. And anyway, Santa waits for you to fall asleep. You know the rules. Come on, campers. Up to bed.” And with that, eight pairs of feet trudged back up the stairs.

“’Let’s take the downstairs bedroom,’ you said. ‘There’s more privacy,’ you said.”

“Well, look,” she retorted, “I didn’t factor in Santa.” They both laughed. “I never thought I’d say this,” she grinned at him, “but thank God for Raven.”

“That cocky little punk,” said Marcus, shaking his head. “You realize we’re never going to live this down. I mean it. She’s literally _never_ going to let this go.”

“We’re just going to have to try and keep it down,” said Abby, pulling him back on top of her and kissing him again.

“Easy for you to say,” he said. “You’re not the one looking at you in that silky red thing.”

“Mmm,” she sighed, as he returned his mouth to the hollow between her breasts, nuzzling deep into her and caressing the soft skin with his tongue. “You like your present?” He nodded, unwilling to tear his mouth away from her breasts for even a moment. His hand slipped back down between her thighs, sliding inside the scrap of red fabric to find her hot and wet and ready for him. One finger crooked lightly inside her, tracing lazy circles around her clit. She arched her back, burying him deeper inside her breasts, and gave a soft sigh. “I promise I’ll try to be quiet,” she murmured, her breath catching in her throat, “but I don’t know how long I can keep it up if you keep doing that.”

“This is just the beginning,” he said between kisses. “I haven’t even unwrapped my gift yet.” And in a flash, both her underwear and his were on the floor.

She reached down to guide his cock inside her, but he shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “You told me to go slow, remember? So I’m going slow.” He kissed her hungrily, flicking a soft fingertip against her clit, then gave her a wolfish grin. “Turn over.”

Unable to hide the unabashed hunger in her eyes, Abby rolled over onto her stomach, burying her face in the pile of soft pillows and propping herself up on her forearms. Marcus pushed the silky red fabric up over the creamy white skin of her perfect round ass, and spanked it very, very lightly. “Up,” he said, and she obeyed, rising up onto her knees and sinking her face further into the pillows in anticipation of what she knew was coming.

Still, even though she was braced for it, the sensation of his mouth buried in her soft wet folds, tongue devouring her from behind and beneath, made her cry out into the pillow. Marcus knelt behind her, nuzzling deeply inside and teasing her all over with long, slow, torturously pleasurable strokes of his tongue. He licked and suckled and swallowed and kissed, as his hands roughly caressed her ass.

Abby was beginning to lose her mind. The pillows muffled her desperate, frantic cries as she rose faster and faster towards her peak, and Marcus smiled as he watched her hands wildly clench at the sheets around her, reaching out to grab hold of something, anything to steady her as her body began to shake and tremble. She was so near the edge that she was beginning to lose control, her knees giving way beneath her and sending her face-first into the pillows as her arms flailed out to each side, panting and trembling and thrusting to capture more, more, more of his mouth.

That was when the second accident happened.

Abby’s left hand swept wide and caught the cord of the brass bedside lamp, sending it clanging to the floor. The bulb didn’t shatter, thank God, but the sound was metallic and almost musical and –

“Sleigh bells!” yelled Octavia from the second floor, as the violent thundering of tiny feet racing down the front stairs.

“I’m going to kill everyone in this house,” Abby muttered into the pillow as Marcus reluctantly tore his mouth away from her and sat back up. She had been so close to the edge of an absolutely shattering orgasm that her whole body felt achy and tingly and she could hardly move.

“I heard sleigh bells, I heard them, I heard them!” Clarke was calling to Bellamy, and they could hear them clambering up onto the living room couch to look outside.

“I don’t see Santa,” said Bellamy skeptically. “Everything looks the same. The stockings are still empty.”

“And they’re gonna _stay_ empty if you don’t get back in your goddamn beds,” Marcus muttered under his breath. Abby sighed, rolling back over onto her back and climbing out of the bed. She pulled her bathrobe out of the closet and tied it around her waist, then tossed Marcus his.

“We have _got_ to put a stop to this,” she said firmly. “If we get interrupted one more time I am turning those kids out into the snow. I mean it. They can go live with Indra. They’re _killing_ me.”

“I can’t go out there like this,” protested Marcus.

“Like what?” she said, and then laughed in spite of herself as he gestured rather helplessly to his desperately erect cock which the soft thin cotton of his bathrobe would do nothing to hide. “No way,” she said, “you’re not getting out of this. We are co-parenting those children right back upstairs to their beds or I might as well take this thing off right now and put my flannel pajamas on.”

“Goddammit,” he muttered, pulling the robe on. Once they were both covered up, and with a valiant attempt at straightening their hair, Abby opened the door.

“Aunt Abby, Uncle Marcus, Santa is coming!” squealed Clarke when she saw them, jumping up and down in her candy cane pajamas and clutching Princess by her stuffed white tail. “We heard sleigh bells!”

“Nope,” said Marcus, feigning a yawn as though just waking up. “No sleigh bells. The lamp in our room fell over, that was the sound you heard.”

“It just fell?” asked Bellamy, puzzled.

“Yes,” said Marcus tightly. “It just fell. By itself. Anyway, no sleigh bells.”

Raven descended from her bedroom just then, clad in a pair of green plaid boxers with a pink tank top that read “LORD, GIVE ME THE CONFIDENCE OF A MEDIOCRE WHITE MAN” and knee-high Wonder Woman socks. She was wearing her glasses and her hair was tied in a messy knot on the top of her head, and Abby wondered anew, for the millionth time, how it was possible that somebody as quiet and gentle as Jackson and somebody as endearing but, frankly, insane as Raven saw anything in each other. And yet there was a little spark between them that neither Marcus nor Abby could deny, which delighted them by drawing the circle of their odd little family even closer together while still baffling them both as to how on earth it was possible. (Abby suspected the hand of Aunt Vera at work but was still not entirely sure how.)

“Oh, hey guys,” said Raven to Marcus and Abby with elaborate casualness, her nonchalance pointedly heightening the contrast between her and the pair of awkward, fidgeting, bathrobe-clad figures before her. “Did the kids wake you?” she asked in a normal tone, then lowered her voice to a conspiratorial wink to add, “or the other way around?”

“I’m going to actually strangle you,” said Marcus.

“I’d worry less about threatening me and more about keeping your robe closed,” said Raven dryly. “You too, Abs.  Red looks good on you, by the way.”

Abby looked down in mortification to see that the top of her robe had fallen open far enough to flash a tantalizing peek of nearly-bare breast spilling out of red lace. She flushed and pulled the robe tighter around herself, as Kane – whose erection was waning but still visible enough to embarrass him – moved out of the doorway to lean around Abby so only the top half of his body was visible.

“Don’t worry, guys, I got this,” said the unfazed Raven in a chipper tone of voice, as she sauntered into the living room where the children were still pressing their noses against the glass of the living room window, trying to catch a glimpse of Santa.

“Dudes,” said Raven. “We went over this. What’s the rule?”

“We have to stay in bed until eight a.m. or no Santa,” said Bellamy.

“Right.”

“But I heard the hoofses!” said Clarke. “And there were bells!”

Raven shook her head. “Nope, you just heard some totally normal sounds and you got overexcited. It’s not even midnight yet, it’s too early for Santa. And remember how we talked about how he sees you when you’re sleeping?”

“'AND KNOWS WHEN YOU’RE AWAKE!'” sang Clarke in response.

“Exactly,” said Raven. “You’re not gonna outsmart that dude. He’s crafty. He’s gonna wait until you’re for _real_ asleep before he comes to this house. So if you stay up all night waiting and running downstairs every time you hear a noise, guess what?”

“No Santa?” exclaimed Octavia.

“No Santa, and a _very_ annoyed Uncle Marcus and Aunt Abby,” said Raven. “Now back upstairs. All of you. New house rule – the stairs are hot lava until eight a.m. and you can’t go past the upstairs railing unless I say so. Got it?”

“Even if we hear Santa?”

“ _Especially_ if you hear Santa,” said Raven firmly. “Now scoot.” And she shoved the kids upstairs.

“Thank you,” mouthed Abby as she passed them, and Raven shot her a knowing grin.

“You two are disgraceful,” she chided.

“I think you’re having a little too much fun being a pain in my ass,” retorted Marcus.

“You must have me confused with someone else,” said Raven innocently. “I no longer have any interest in doing _anything_ to your ass.”

“Oh, Jesus,” muttered Abby, as Marcus blushed furiously and turned away.

“That being said, if Abby wants any pointers –“

“I really, really don’t.”

“Well then, my work here is done,” she said cheerily. “I’m going back to bed. But if plaster starts falling from the ceiling I honestly don’t know what I’m going to tell them.”

“Leave, now,” said Marcus, and she trotted up the stairs cackling to herself.

“Our entire family is insane,” said Abby, flopping back down onto the bed. “Everyone. Everyone is insane.”

“The kids we can’t do anything about,” said Marcus, “but I’m really really trying to remember why in God’s name we invited Raven.”

“It seemed like such a good idea at the time,” agreed Abby. “And now I just want to lock her in the kids’ room and push the dining room sideboard in front of it to trap them all inside.”

“Can’t,” said Marcus. “Think of the fire hazard.”

He flopped down on the bed next to her and took her hand. After a long moment, she realized he was laughing. Then she was laughing too, and once she started, she couldn’t stop. He opened his arms and she curled up against him, howling with laughter and feeling his whole body shaking as he tried to contain his hilarity.

“This is why adoptive parents should have support groups,” he said between breathless gasps of laughter. “Nobody fucking prepares you for this kind of thing.”

“There should be an informational pamphlet,” she agreed, wiping the tears from her eyes. “’How To Have Sex With Kids In the House.’”

“I mean, for the love of God.”

“It’s especially cruel because I really was trying so hard to be quiet.”

“I know. It’s not your fault. The lamp was an accident.”

“I couldn’t help it,” she said. “You were making me crazy.” He smiled at her then, the laughter subsiding and the mood between them subtly shifting.

“Crazy, huh?” he said with great interest, propping himself on his elbow so he could lean over her and look into her eyes. She nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from him.

“Out of my mind,” she whispered.

“Want me to drive you crazy some more?” he said softly, and she nodded as his hands reached down to the hastily-tied knot of her bathrobe and pulled it open, baring her breasts to him as they overflowed from the lacy red cups. He pressed a gentle kiss onto the top of each breast, and she gave a little purring sound.

“I don’t want to rush you,” she said, “but now I’m paranoid that if we don’t skip straight to the grand finale something else is going to go wrong and we’re never going to get there.”

He lifted his head away from her breasts and bent down over her face, his forehead nearly touching her own. “Say it,” he breathed. “I like it when you say it.”

“I want you to fuck me,” she whispered. “Please, baby.”

In a heartbeat his mouth was on hers, his body pressing her down into the mattress, his hands tangling in her hair. His cock surged back to life again, hot and hard as iron against her hip. Whether it was coming so close twice before, or the fear of another interruption, he didn’t know, but the slow, sweet languor of the evening had vanished only to be replaced by a desperate, frantic wildness. She reached down to grasp his cock in her hand, feeling it leap and twitch as she clutched it, feeling Marcus’ whole body tense up at her touch. She caressed him firmly and insistently, stroking up and down his shaft and brushing the tip with her thumb, feeling him tremble in her arms. He buried his mouth in the soft hollow between her throat and shoulder, his breath and his hot little kisses making her shiver, and she could feel him moaning her name as she moved her hand harder and faster, faster and harder, and then abruptly plunged him into her.

The sensation of contact at long last was sheer ecstasy. Abby was hot and slick inside, drawing him in so deeply that he felt almost dizzy. And so, perhaps he can be forgiven for the thing that happened next.

“Oh, Abby,” he groaned aloud, forgetting to be quiet.

They both froze, hearts pounding, staring at each other in wide-eyed horror, waiting, waiting, waiting . . .

And there it was.

Footsteps.

“Son of a _bitch_ ,” he muttered. _“Again?”_

Abby bit her lip to keep from moaning at the sensations of Marcus’ cock still buried deep inside her. “And you can’t pin this one on me,” she murmured. “That was completely your fault.”

“I know.”

“What are you kids doing out of bed _again_?” they heard Raven say from the top of the stairs (the kids had at least respected the “hot lava” rule and hadn’t come tromping down, but they were standing on the second floor landing with their ears sharpened for sounds of Santa, which was just as bad).

“Auntie Raven, he’s here, he’s here!” exclaimed Bellamy. “He’s downstairs! I heard voices! He’s talking to Aunt Abby!”

“He’s talking to – oh, Lord,” they heard Raven sigh in amused exasperation. “Okay, I’m just gonna – you kids stay here, I’ll go downstairs and look, okay?”

Marcus held completely still, his hard cock still buried deeply inside Abby, and they both held their breath as they listened to Raven’s footsteps coming down the stairs, walking around, and making a big show out of hunting for Santa.

“Nope!” she exclaimed loudly. “No Santa down here! Nobody here but Aunt Abby and Uncle Marcus, who are sleeping.”

Marcus shifted his weight on top of Abby just then, sending his cock deeper into her, and she couldn’t stifle the tiniest gasp. “It wouldn’t kill them to try sleeping a little _quieter_ ,” Raven added in a voice pitched just low enough for them to hear on the other side of the door.

“I hate you,” said Marcus, and they heard her laughing.

“What’s funny, Auntie Raven?”

“Nothing,” she said hastily. “Nothing at all. There’s no Santa here, because you kids are still not asleep, and if you get out of bed _one more time_ I’m taking back all your presents. I mean it. And if you can’t fall asleep, you still have to stay in your room and find some other way to entertain yourselves – _quietly_ – so the rest of us can sleep. That includes you two, by the way,” she added in a low voice the kids couldn’t hear, and then they heard her finally make her way back upstairs.

Marcus held himself as still as possible inside Abby until he heard the bedroom door upstairs open and shut.

“Back in your beds,” Raven commanded. “Santa’s not coming until you kids are asleep.”

“ _Nobody’s_ coming until those kids are asleep,” muttered Marcus crossly, and Abby collapsed against him in a fit of helpless giggles.

“It’s hard enough raising three children under the age of eight,” she said, “without also inheriting a nosy, sarcastic teenager.”

“Tell me again why we didn’t send her to go stay with Vera?”

“It wasn’t my idea,” said Abby, “the kids insisted.”

“Damn kids.”

“Let’s stop talking about the kids,” said Abby, lifting her hips just the tiniest bit to pull Marcus deeper inside her, and he groaned heavily into her shoulder.

“Agreed.”

“And about Raven.”

“Also that.”

“Let’s just talk about you and me,” she said, spreading her thighs wide enough to wrap her legs around him and take him in breathtakingly deep.

“Oh, God,” he murmured, his mouth buried in her soft skin, his breath warm against her throat, his hands caressing her breasts and belly. “Oh, God. Abby.”

“If you don’t make me come soon,” she whispered, thrusting up against him and wrapping her arms around his back, “I’m going to write the management a very strongly-worded letter.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” he conceded agreeably, and as he held himself up with his strong arms braced on either side of her, he began to thrust with greater and greater force, burying himself deeper and deeper inside of her. She melted into his arms, opening and yielding before him, bottoming out inside her with a deep low animal moan as her back arched and she bit her lip to keep from screaming.

“Oh God, baby, yes,” she cried softly. “Yes. Just like that. Right there.” And so he stayed there, thrusting into her over and over, his hands roughly caressing her breasts through the red silk, as she whimpered and trembled in his arms, feeling the waves begin to rise inside her.

“Abby, I’m going to come,” he groaned hoarsely, and she nodded wordlessly. “Are you close?”

“Oh God, I’m so close,” she whispered. “Please, baby. Please. Oh, please.” He slipped a hand down between their bodies to find her drenched clit, and gently rolled it between his thumb and forefinger as he plunged faster and faster into her. When she finally toppled over the edge, the waves hit her from both directions, and she came so hard she had to clutch onto Marcus for dear life, burying her mouth so deeply in his shoulder to muffle her cries that he could feel her teeth bite into his flesh. He followed her over the edge not even a full second later, bursting deep inside her with a hard, frantic groan he tried desperately to swallow back down. “Abby, Abby, Abby,” he moaned over and over again as he shuddered inside her, his hands fisting the red silk and his mouth devouring her skin.

They came back to earth slowly, shakily, holding each other tightly as they descended from the heights, and listened to each other’s breathing begin to soften back down to normal.

"Oh my God," murmured Marcus in a tone of abject wonder.  "I think I blacked out there for a minute."  He kissed her, running a hand through her now-sweaty, tangled hair.  "I don't have to wait until next Christmas to enjoy this present again, do I?"

"You don't even have to wait until next _week_ ," said Abby frankly.  "That was incredible."  He leaned down and fluttered gentle kisses all over the tops of her breasts that rose up out of the red fabric.

"You really like this thing."

"I really, really do."

"I like how much you like it," she grinned at him.  "Think you can go again?"

"You're going to kill me.  I need a snack and like half an hour to recover.  Otherwise I'll be dead."

"I accept your terms," she said, bounding out of bed.  He watched the swell of her perfectly rounded ass beneath the soft red fabric as she darted out to the living room and returned with the candy cane mug full of milk and the plate of cookies the children had left out for Santa.

"Oh, thank God," sighed Marcus.  "I'm starving."

"Half an hour," said Abby through a mouthful of peppermint-frosted chocolate crinkles.  "You're on the clock."

"Oh, believe me," he said, running a hand over the silky red fabric encasing her breasts.  "I'll be ready."

* * *  

"Auntie Raven, Auntie Raven, look!" exclaimed Clarke the next morning as Marcus put a mug of coffee in Raven's hand.  "Santa was here!  Santa ate the cookies!"

"Yeah, I know," said Raven with an accusatory look at Abby.  "Because I got up at seven a.m., _as I was instructed,_ and when I got here the cookies were already gone."  Abby looked down guiltily.  "So either somebody else in the house worked up an appetite and needed a midnight snack," she said, making Marcus shift uncomfortably in his seat, "or it was Santa."

"Definitely Santa," said Marcus hastily.

"Yes," agreed Abby.  "Definitely Santa."

**Author's Note:**

> Read the original work here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/5088329
> 
> Listen to the Christmas playlist here: http://8tracks.com/grrlinthefireplace/it-s-a-marshmallow-world
> 
> Buy Raven's shirt, WHICH IS TOTALLY REAL AND WHICH MY FRIEND DESIGNED AND I OWN, here: https://teespring.com/lord-give-me-the-confidence


End file.
